


evading the guards

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Friendship, I Created This Baby, Sleepy Boys, also guess who the first group of three people are, enemy to bestie, hee hee ha ha, hint hint, mmmm enjoy my 2 am masterpece, not a fucking ship u weirdo, rn im really into war themes, so thats why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: in this place, dream loses his soul and finds it again.based on that star wars song called evading the guardsanyways if u read this whole thing ily
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 4
Collections: Anonymous





	evading the guards

in this place, dream loses his soul and finds it again.

the chants grow louder, the pounding beat gnawing at dream’s brain. he raises his shield like the rest of them and stomps, splitting the ground right down the center. it is both parts exhilarating and aching. dream aches for his home, full of untamed land and green hills. dream aches for his best friends. he holds onto his heart before it can run away.

the instructor blows his whistle. “swords up, boys.” that’s all they were, boys in the middle of a man’s war. “and on the count of three. one, two three!”

the wind propels a gust of godsent air and dream takes advantage of it, leaping and slicing an iron sword in electric cracks of air. he faces three opponents at once, their faces all covered with the same standard white masks. they trade a few hits back and forth, dodging and blocking, each time leaving dream to calculate their reactions, the barely detected twist of the sword and step to the side. he will never get tired of this thrill. the masks of his opposition blur into one, and he remembers he has seen this exact situation play out before. he raises his sword as if to swing, and when the three instinctively bring their shields above their heads, dream ducks and uses the tip of his sword to flip their shields out from under them. the three boys look as if they had been expecting it, and they nod, giving dream the sign to stop. the hairs on his skin vibrate, his body humming as if this is who he is meant to be.

similar fights break out among boys in every rank until there are few remaining, the rest acridly watching from the side. dream knocks away swords and shields, and all he can see on the horizon of his warpath is a blur of pink. he knows who it is, has plotted out countless ways to distract and deceive, has been playing the long game for as long as god knows. dream has avoided the mystery at every turn but today, today is his chance. dream needs to take the mantle as his own, and get the hell out of this godforsaken pit. 

they inevitably meet at the middle, pacing under the intense sun. dream can feel an uncomfortable sensation poking into his arm, but he shoulders it. his eyes are grim, locked in so hard an outsider would have thought he went blind. dream notices a hesitation and swings, and the other boy defends easily with his own sword, set with a red ore that reflects rays of light into dream’s eyes. when the boy tries to distract him with a tempting opening, dream just ducks to the side. they shuffle around, and begin to find a rhythm in each parry and block. there is just the right amount of surprise to call it art. blades twirl in the air, clashing into each other again and again without mercy, and the two figures spin back and forth in a waltz. dream meets the other’s energy in earnest. his bones are steeped in pain and grit, and he licks his lips in anticipation of the next move. 

dream, in the haze of fighting, almost misses the boy’s sneaky swig of bright teal liquid in a glass canister. but the adrenaline sharpens his vision, and he knows what has happened. there are twenty synonyms for cheater, and this boy is all of them. the boy wipes his mouth with an arm and moves in quick, sharp bursts. one might call it rigor, dream calls it supernatural speed, magic and forbidden witchery. dream realizes it is over when the boy’s pink hair whips like lightning, and dream’s sword clatters to the ground, echoing in finality. his shield falls away and his armored helmet comes undone, leaving dream standing before this stranger. 

dream refuses to nod in defeat, conceding to no one and especially not a liar, a fraud, and a fake.

angrily, he stares at the boy, waiting for him to draw blood or spit insult after insult. but the boy shrugs and offers his hand, adorned with twisted ruby rings. dream glares, and when it is obvious he will not reciprocate the handshake, the boy huffs and withdraws his hand. “your loss.”

“what was that trick you pulled? i saw the potion, you know,” dream accuses. “you think you can get away with anything just because you’re the top dog, but it won’t be that way forever.”

the boy smiles wryly and fishes out the canister, tossing it to dream. “it was a soda pop drink. you just wanted an excuse to lose.”

dream tentatively sips, and the familiar flavor of fizzy berry juice rolls across his tongue. for once, he is speechless.

seasons pass and the earth spins, and their relationship has gone from dislike, to wary alliance, to teacher and student, to what dream can timidly call friendship. of course, he has yet to learn the other boy’s name, and he thinks that the boy would cut his hands off if he ever dared give him a hug, but in reality they aren’t so different. and over the course of grueling training sessions and game nights, dream learns a lot about the boy, who comes from a line of potato farmers, whose favorite color is pink, and whose eyes are two slightly different shades of brown.

“how’d you learn how to fight?” dream asks one day, undoing the straps of his armor.

the boy looks at him and speaks slowly. “how’d you learn how to breathe?”

“what does that mean?” dream’s eyebrows draw together. 

the boy says smugly, “god whispered in my ear and taught me.”

dream scoffs. “your ego is so huge. please, come back down to reality.”

when the boy snorts, dream thinks that maybe this war isn’t so bad after all. 

the boy reaches out his hand, a resemblance of their first fight. “my name’s technoblade if you were wondering.”

“i was wondering,” dream says lightly. he longs for his home less these days, and his dreams are less vivid, less saturated. instead, he finds himself itching to spar with his unlikely companion, and the pair make memories in the training arena and the secret room behind the cook’s kitchen where they tell stories and make up games. dream begins to embrace short silences, dry remarks, and howls of laughter - wheezing mixed with something halfway between a cough and a giggle.

they are two boys in the middle of a man’s war, but it doesn’t stop them.

**Author's Note:**

> pretty please leave comment? btw can u tell i got lazy during the end LMFAOOO


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